FIC: Chasing Cars (VM/SB, PG)
Oct. 9th, 2006 10:35 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
clocks.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
rugbytackleTitle: Chasing Cars
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
clocks
Pairing: Viggo/Sean
Rating: PG
Warning: Angst, man.
Disclaimer: Don't know them, this is all fiction.
Feedback: Would be salivated upon like Homer over a box of donuts
Summary: Viggo might be running out of time.
Archiving: Rugbytackling, others please ask, thanks!
Notes: As before, this fic can be read as a standalone, but it's actually a companion piece to No Distance Left To Run. There should be a third part coming up soon. I'd like to give hugs and a private masseuse to all the great people who left such kind words on the first one. Again, this is inspired by a Snow Patrol song, "Chasing Cars."
CHASING CARS
Viggo finds out about the whole thing by accident, really. He is chatting to Andy, one of his two distant neighbours, when Andy mentions a maroon Saab that had stopped outside Viggo's ranch a couple of times last month. "When exactly?" Viggo asks, his throat tightening, but Andy shrugs because he was leading his bull home at the time and the animal had been restless and distracted him. The news of the mysterious visit - well, not so mysterious, because Viggo knows only one person who owns a maroon Saab - unsettles him for the day and he burns the toast twice. In the end he isn't even hungry, just staring at the calendar on the wall, picking at his nails, ignoring the drone of CNN in the background.
Doing the rounds of press for Alatriste meant that he was unable to retreat to Idaho as often as he had liked, but now he is finally back. Still, the peace and solace he usually seeks here is oddly missing. He can't help the strange niggling feeling that he has just entered a room where someone has just left. He can sense their - his - lingering scent, feel his presence still thick in the air. He longs to paint, but he has stopped painting for months now for reasons he doesn't want to admit to himself.
The last time he painted - truly painted - was the last time Sean was here, and Viggo had painted like a madman, with those strong arms wrapped around his waist, that stubborn chin resting on his shoulder, and if Viggo turned his head just so, he would see a glint in those sharp green eyes - an amused, tender glint. That had been one of his best, most cathartic paintings, and up till this day, he still doesn't have a name for it. He had briefly toyed with 'Aquamarine' but canned the idea when Henry grinned and told him it was the name of some girly mermaid movie that was released recently.
Viggo walks down to his studio on the first floor, the afternoon sunshine flooding into the warm, wood-panelled room through the extra-large french windows and lighting up the studio, which somehow still retains some gloom. He unveils the painting, untouched all those months since he left Sean. Aquamarine. Good things didn't always have a name. Viggo had been okay with that at first. Why wasn't it enough in the end?
Viggo pads over to the windows, leaning against the glass and trying to soak up some of the sunshine as though by osmosis, just so he can shake off the ever-present sense of gloom and dread in this house which was once his escape. He stares out at the long and winding road leading out of his driveway and up to the next farm, and fancies that maybe he can see a gleaming maroon Saab in the distance. What would he do if he did? Run out and chase after the car, admitting that he was wrong? Longing and regret makes him curl his fists against the glass, and suddenly Viggo wants to run out and just walk, walk to the middle of nowhere - a cornfield - and just lie down and hope and wait until things are alright again.
Shaking his head, Viggo presses his forehead against the glass, glancing at the wilting potted plant in the corner. Bernard is the only physical, living remnant from his days with Sean, and it is dying fast.
Viggo turns his gaze to the cordless phone haphazardly perched beside Bernard on the table, then stalks forward suddenly to pick up the phone.
He can only hope he is not too late.
THE END
Author:
clocksPairing: Viggo/Sean
Rating: PG
Warning: Angst, man.
Disclaimer: Don't know them, this is all fiction.
Feedback: Would be salivated upon like Homer over a box of donuts
Summary: Viggo might be running out of time.
Archiving: Rugbytackling, others please ask, thanks!
Notes: As before, this fic can be read as a standalone, but it's actually a companion piece to No Distance Left To Run. There should be a third part coming up soon. I'd like to give hugs and a private masseuse to all the great people who left such kind words on the first one. Again, this is inspired by a Snow Patrol song, "Chasing Cars."
CHASING CARS
Viggo finds out about the whole thing by accident, really. He is chatting to Andy, one of his two distant neighbours, when Andy mentions a maroon Saab that had stopped outside Viggo's ranch a couple of times last month. "When exactly?" Viggo asks, his throat tightening, but Andy shrugs because he was leading his bull home at the time and the animal had been restless and distracted him. The news of the mysterious visit - well, not so mysterious, because Viggo knows only one person who owns a maroon Saab - unsettles him for the day and he burns the toast twice. In the end he isn't even hungry, just staring at the calendar on the wall, picking at his nails, ignoring the drone of CNN in the background.
Doing the rounds of press for Alatriste meant that he was unable to retreat to Idaho as often as he had liked, but now he is finally back. Still, the peace and solace he usually seeks here is oddly missing. He can't help the strange niggling feeling that he has just entered a room where someone has just left. He can sense their - his - lingering scent, feel his presence still thick in the air. He longs to paint, but he has stopped painting for months now for reasons he doesn't want to admit to himself.
The last time he painted - truly painted - was the last time Sean was here, and Viggo had painted like a madman, with those strong arms wrapped around his waist, that stubborn chin resting on his shoulder, and if Viggo turned his head just so, he would see a glint in those sharp green eyes - an amused, tender glint. That had been one of his best, most cathartic paintings, and up till this day, he still doesn't have a name for it. He had briefly toyed with 'Aquamarine' but canned the idea when Henry grinned and told him it was the name of some girly mermaid movie that was released recently.
Viggo walks down to his studio on the first floor, the afternoon sunshine flooding into the warm, wood-panelled room through the extra-large french windows and lighting up the studio, which somehow still retains some gloom. He unveils the painting, untouched all those months since he left Sean. Aquamarine. Good things didn't always have a name. Viggo had been okay with that at first. Why wasn't it enough in the end?
Viggo pads over to the windows, leaning against the glass and trying to soak up some of the sunshine as though by osmosis, just so he can shake off the ever-present sense of gloom and dread in this house which was once his escape. He stares out at the long and winding road leading out of his driveway and up to the next farm, and fancies that maybe he can see a gleaming maroon Saab in the distance. What would he do if he did? Run out and chase after the car, admitting that he was wrong? Longing and regret makes him curl his fists against the glass, and suddenly Viggo wants to run out and just walk, walk to the middle of nowhere - a cornfield - and just lie down and hope and wait until things are alright again.
Shaking his head, Viggo presses his forehead against the glass, glancing at the wilting potted plant in the corner. Bernard is the only physical, living remnant from his days with Sean, and it is dying fast.
Viggo turns his gaze to the cordless phone haphazardly perched beside Bernard on the table, then stalks forward suddenly to pick up the phone.
He can only hope he is not too late.
THE END
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-10-09 10:58 pm (UTC)He can sense their - his - lingering scent, feel his presence still thick in the air.
You've really caught that sense of loneliness and absence. It's absolutely tangilbe, not just in how Viggo feels, but I can feel it too as I read.
suddenly Viggo wants to run out and just walk, walk to the middle of nowhere - a cornfield - and just lie down and hope and wait until things are alright again.
God, yes. Exactly like that. That's spot on, and beautiful.
He can only hope he is not too late.
*crosses fingers* This was lovely. I await the next bit eagerly (assuming there is a next bit). ^_^
no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 05:32 pm (UTC)There will be a next part coming up when the boys co-operate, they're both being stubborn mules at the moment, tsk! But again, thank you so much for your kind words!
no subject
Date: 2006-10-09 10:59 pm (UTC)Oh wow... this is so perfectly Viggo, slightly off-kilter, and not at all linear in his thinking. And ouch, poor Viggo--now I'm not sure *which* one of them to thwap! (Probably Viggo... *grin*)
And I'll admit to a muffled (I'm reading this at work...bad me!) snort at the name of the plant... that's wonderful!
It's going to get better, right? Please? *grin*
~Kris
no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 05:37 pm (UTC)Thanks so much for commenting, it's always great to hear from you! :)
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Date: 2006-10-09 11:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 05:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-09 11:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 05:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-10 12:41 am (UTC)Ouch. I know exactly what you mean, and there's always that feeling of longing, trying to reach back in time and catch whoever is *supposed* to still be there.
Bernard is the only physical, living remnant from his days with Sean, and it is dying fast.
Nice way of setting up that sense of urgency, you naughty thing! Can't wait to see how things turn out!
no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 05:42 pm (UTC)(I've been meaning to ask this for some time: is it alright if I friend your LJ? :)
no subject
Date: 2006-10-10 12:57 am (UTC)Good lord, I love your writing. I've read it for so long now that it's just so--familiar and awesome. I love seeing your work posted. Yay for a lovely, angsty piece. Sigh.
Freakin' love this: The last time he painted - truly painted - was the last time Sean was here, and Viggo had painted like a madman, with those strong arms wrapped around his waist, that stubborn chin resting on his shoulder, and if Viggo turned his head just so, he would see a glint in those sharp green eyes - an amused, tender glint.
Lovely. Just--perfect.
no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 05:43 pm (UTC)You're just so wonderful :) Are you still writing? I miss your stuff, I want to read it! It doesn't have to be VigBean, it can be anything else (although I can't really read VigOrli, but anything else is great :)
no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 07:22 pm (UTC)Yeah, I'm still writing. I'm mainly writing CSI fic now, and I'm working on a Supernatural and a Grey's Anatomy series at the moment. I'll leave you a comment in your LJ with some links if you want to see some of my more recent stuff. God, I haven't done a VigBean in ages, although I still love them. ;)
Miss you!! *cling* Heh.
no subject
Date: 2006-10-10 05:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 05:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-10 05:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 05:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-10 07:30 am (UTC)I am so glad to see a follow up, and that there's another to come. I'm already trying to guess which song you might use from the album. Bernard must be saved! Sean and Viggo must be together! *nods*
Thanks for posting *huggles*
no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 05:49 pm (UTC)I'm torn between 2 song titles for the next one, so kudos to you if you guess the right one :) And yes, Bernard must be saved from a wilty death! Viva la VigBean!
Thank you SO much for commenting, I always look forward to what you have to say. *hugs back*
no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 06:15 pm (UTC)I hope you don't mind but I friended you so I can link you to the entry cos my journal is f-locked.
It's here (http://idrillia.livejournal.com/9766.html).
And the trouble with making a guess is that there are, I think, at least three that work as a 'finale' song. But I think you're right, because everyone seems to react so personally, what I might see as a finale song someone else might not. Whichever you choose will be totally perfect.
But for now.. when I listen to the album at the moment I do think of your fic. I posted my guess over at my LJ here (http://idrillia.livejournal.com/13902.html).
Ok. I'm off to work on my "Save Bernard" placard. There is going to be a demonstration in support of neglected plants I take it?! *g*
no subject
Date: 2006-10-10 12:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 05:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-11 06:10 am (UTC)That is such a great subtle hint - for me - that Viggo didn't know what he had with Sean was love. It was good, but he didn't give it that name. I don't know whether you meant it that way :) - but I love to interprete it like that.
no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 05:53 pm (UTC)Also, thank you for reading and commenting, and excuse me while I ogle at that delish icon of yours....*drool*
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Date: 2006-10-11 10:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 05:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-11 11:39 am (UTC)What a wonderful memory - if he wants to recapture it, Viggo needs to make that call.
Excellent companion piece - "...hope and wait until things are alright again."
no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 05:59 pm (UTC)In the meantime, thanks for reading and commenting :)